


down to my skin and bone

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Ableist Language, Anal Sex, Angst, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Biting, Bottom Harry, Butt Plugs, Creepy Louis, Degradation, Dubious Consent, Extremely Dubious Consent, Feminization, Harry in Panties, Homophobic Language, Humiliation, Knife Play, Louis in Glasses, M/M, Manipulation, Master/Pet, Reluctant Submission, Riding Crops, Scary, Top Louis, Under-negotiated Kink, a lot of it for some reason, age gap, all hail stephen, at least its supposed to be, belt spanking, creepy b&b's, just a lil, just because, sex in dangerous places ??, slight D/s, sociopath louis, stephen king is my daddy and inspiration, teen harry, this could get really creepy i have no idea where this is going tbh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-30
Updated: 2016-07-29
Packaged: 2018-07-19 03:22:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7342627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry narrowly escapes his sadistic stepfather, only to fall into the hands of a ridiculously attractive sociopath.</p><p>or, Louis owns a hotel, and Harry needs a place to stay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sugarbabyharry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugarbabyharry/gifts).



> ❤︎ happy (kinda late) birthday to my love ❤︎
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> (summary says hotel but it's really a bed and breakfast hotel just sounds better ok) 
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> also disclaimer that i obviously don't think the things louis does are ok and i don't support his actions !! ok thats all thx
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> 
> edit: hey so this fic has some heavy stuff just forewarning you so be careful !! don't read if you're sensitive to any of the tags !

   Harry pulled his jacket tighter around himself, jamming his freezing hands deep into the warm lining of his pockets. The tips of his fingers were beginning to ache from the cold. His breath clouded in front of him with each exhale. It was cold - the coldest night they'd had all winter. _The perfect night to run away_ , he thought bitterly, regretting his rashness.

   But he didn't have much of a choice, did he? With Thatcher looming above him, huffing out all the things he was going to do to Harry as he lazily smoked his cigarette, using Harry's wrist as an ashtray. The wound still stung as if it had only just happened, as if the cigarette was still pressing against his skin, smoke rising at the contact and filling his nostrils with the smell of burning flesh - his _own_ burning flesh. His stomach had roiled as he howled in pain and he’d thought he might empty the meager contents of his stomach all over the man.

   His mum was out of town for the weekend, and even if she had been there, even if she had seen the way the man grabbed Harry's ass and pulled him close, sucked a mark onto his neck, would she have tried to stop it? Or would she have just looked away, eyes empty and glazed over, chain-smoking her way through a pack of cigarettes. No, he hadn't had a choice, he decided. He'd done the only thing he could've.

 

   Harry believed that his mother married Daniel Thatcher out of fear and only fear. There wasn't an iota of love between the two of them. Thatcher wanted to own something -some _one_ \- wanted to feel powerful, wanted a hole to stick his cock in, wanted... a stepson to pleasure him? It seemed so. Harry never would've thought it true if it hadn't happened. Thatcher called Harry _“fucking fag”_ as if he thought it was his given name; Harry didn’t recall a time when Thatch had ever called him by his actual name without those two words tagged on at the end..  

   He tried to burn the images of Thatch's unclothed cock out of his head, but it stayed firmly there, no matter how hard he tried to wish it away. He could hear his voice against the shell of his ear, rough and hungry, _"'M gonna fuck you raw, Harry, fuck you until you pass out."_ His heart still pummeled against his chest in panic, although he was far away enough from his house now that Thatch wouldn't be able to find him (not that Harry was sure he'd come looking, he had kneed his balls pretty hard, had managed to grab a knife and slash him across the cheek hard enough that he’d surely need stitches. Thatch would probably spend a few hours recovering). There were no streetlights here. Harry wasn't exactly sure where _here_ was -he'd just picked a direction and ran as soon as he'd gotten Thatcher off of him- but he was away from Thatch and that was all that mattered at the moment.

 

   Harry -who certainly didn't mind the company of older men (ask his year 11 algebra teacher, who every girl in school fawned over; little did they know that the last time that man had been near a vagina was when he was _born_ )- did _not_ like this man. He was an old, ugly man with a snakelike face, pinched and tight. He looked like something out of a _Stephen King_ book, huge and terrifying, towering over just about everyone he met, who spat when he spoke as if his mouth were full of venom. Plus, the thought of having a cock in him that had once been in his mum's vagina made him nauseous.

   He shivered at the thought and suddenly remembered how very cold it was - and thank god he'd halted his escape long enough to grab his jacket. It was nearing midnight now, and at some point he had traded asphalt roads for gravel, but he had no memory of doing so - he'd been in somewhat of a daze for a few hours now. He didn't think he'd ever been here before... the road was dark and unfamiliar, surrounded by woods so thick that he couldn't see an inch into them. Despite the cold, he was incredibly grateful for winter. No wild animals would be sneaking up on him; all of them burrowed away for the season.

 

   The gravel crunching under his feet seemed unbelievably loud against the stark silence of the night. He could hardly see the ground in front of him, what with the moon being hidden behind the thick layer of trees.

_I have to find something eventually_ , Harry convinced himself, _a town or a house.._.

 

   His stomach growled painfully, aching with hunger. He hadn't eaten since this morning, and even then he hadn't eaten much. Thatch had been glaring at him over the rim of his coffee, making Harry shift uncomfortably in his seat until he just decided he'd skip breakfast entirely. He'd worked through his lunch break and by the time he'd gotten home, Thatch was already in a rotten mood. He had snuck off to his room immediately, hoping to make it through the night without having to speak to him.

   The soles of his feet were beginning to throb lowly, a barely-there pain that was incredibly aggravating nevertheless. He must've ran a mile, and walked eight or nine by now. Not all that much, really, but it wasn't as if Harry was in shape. He had practically no muscle, getting Thatcher off of him had been an act fueled purely by adrenaline. He wouldn't ever be able to-

 

   He stopped dead in his tracks, nearly falling to his knees at the sight. Light! A light! Oh, fuck, _finally_ . He forced his tired legs to speed up, his lungs burning. He was so, _so_ tired. Maybe it was a house, with a little porch that he could rest on until morning. Or maybe the beginnings of a small town, where he could find some quiet store to sleep behind.

   As he turned the corner, he was pleasantly surprised by what he saw. A quaint, Victorian style house, two stories tall. There was a large porch wrapped around the front of the house, and the entire thing looked like it belonged out on the countryside, not in the middle of the woods.

   There was a light above the door that had been left on. Harry carefully crept closer to the house, stopping once his eyes could make out the illuminated sign.

 

_Tomlinson's Bed & Breakfast. _

 

   He'd never heard of it. But that wasn't unusual - Harry was fairly certain that he'd never been out this way before. They'd only just moved to this side of town two months ago, him and Thatcher and his mother.

 

   He hadn't even noticed the man curled up on the porch swing, book in hand. The man had watched Harry in an intense fascination as he neared. _Perfect_ , he thought, his lips curling into a smile.

 

   "Hello."

 

   Harry shrieked, jumping backwards and automatically bringing a hand up to his chest. "Fuck! You scared the shit outta me!"

 

   "I'm sorry," he chuckled, dog-earing his page and setting the book down on the swing. "Are you alright? Need any help?"

 

   He crossed the porch until he was standing at the steps, looking down at Harry. "I, uh- I've just been walking," Harry started. How did he explain this? "I had to leave my house. My mum should be home tomorrow. Or the next day? I-I can't remember," he stuttered, suddenly feeling nervous. "I don't really have any friends, so uh, I was just gonna walk until I found a town or something," he shrugged insecurely, a blush spreading across his cheeks.

 

   "Lucky for you, you've stumbled across a bed and breakfast," he lifted his arm to gesture at the grounds. "How old are you?"

 

   "Eighteen," he lied easily. _Almost_ eighteen. It was hardly a lie; only another month and he'd officially be an adult. This man was past that point already. He looked about thirty, Harry thought. He had wide rimmed glasses perched on his nose and a fine scruff dominated the lower half of his face. "You don't mind if I stay here?" he furrowed his brow in confusion. "I don't have any money on me right now, but I can pay you back as soon as I can get back home? I promise! I'll give you my address and everything, you can track me down if I never bring the money," a nervous laugh escaped his lips and he cursed himself for how silly -how young- he sounded.

 

   "Yeah, yeah, that's fine. We don't get much business in the winter." He moved to the door, waving for Harry to follow. "My name's Louis, if you care to know."

 

   "Harry."

 

  "Harry," Louis smiled. "Alright, here it is," he held the door open for Harry to see. They walked right into a living room full of old but well-kept furniture. There was a staircase directly in front of him, and three closed doors leading out of the room. A fireplace sat against the far wall, the fire crackling and alive inside. Harry resisted the urge to plop down right next to it and take a long nap. He was tired down to his bones; he couldn't wait to sleep. Louis noticed Harry looking at it longingly. "There's a fireplace in your room; I can get a fire going for you if you'd like."

 

   "Yes, please," Harry nodded. "Thank you so much. So, so much. Really, I'd be out in the cold all night if it weren't for you."

 

   "That's alright," Louis smiled kindly, starting up the stairs. "I'll show you to your room. There's a bathroom connected to it, and I can bring you something to eat if you're hungry."

 

   Harry's stomach growled once again at the mention of food and he blushed bright red. Louis laughed, taking Harry's hand as they reached the top of the stairs, leading him across the landing. "I'll take that as a yes. Here's your room."

   Harry's room looked identical to the living room. Vintage furniture, doilies strewn across cabinets and tables, little figurines on the bookshelves. It seemed as if the inn's last redecoration had been fifty years prior. A big four-poster bed took up a large portion of the room, white silk fabric draped over the posts.

 

   "Is it okay?" Louis asked, almost shyly.

 

   "It's perfect. Thank you so much, I really mean it-"

 

   Louis lifted a hand to stop him, "Hey, it's alright. You don't have to keep thanking me," he laughed lightly, untangling his fingers from Harry's with a little reluctance. "The bathroom's there," he pointed to a door at the far side of the room, "There's towels in the cabinet in there. I'll bring up some clothes and food."

 

   Harry stepped into the room, studiously examining it. "Thank you, Louis," he said before he could stop himself. "See you in a bit."

   Harry let out an exhausted sigh as soon as the door was shut and fell backwards onto the bed. It was soft and smelt of washing detergent and Harry wanted nothing more than to crawl under the blankets right then and there.

   "Patience, Harry," he muttered to himself -an old habit- and regretfully left the bed behind.

 

   The bathroom was large; claw-foot tub, white tiles, flower patterned wallpaper. He peeled his clothes from his tired body and submerged himself under the heat of the shower.

   After the quick shower, Harry dug through the cabinet drawers until he found a bandaid for his burn, which he cleaned out thoroughly, gritting his teeth against the pain the entire time. He smeared some antiseptic cream onto it and covered it, praying that it didn't leave a scar.

 

   He felt much more awake now. He shook out his hair and wrapped the towel around his waist. When he opened the door, there was a fire crackling in the fireplace and Louis had just entered with a stack of clothes in one hand and a tray of food in the other.

   Louis' cock twinged at the sight of Harry, rivulets of water sliding down his bare chest, naked except for the towel around his waist. _His cock is beneath that towel,_ Louis thought, _just that tiny piece of fabric is all that's separating me from it. God, oh god, I bet it's tiny. No- it's huge. The boy's tall, it's got to be huge, right? I bet it looks so pretty standing up against his pale tummy, I bet-_

 

   "Hey," Harry smiled, lifting his hand in a wave.

 

   "Oh, perfect timing," Louis laughed nervously, setting down the tray and handing the clothes off to Harry, his fingers brushing over Harry’s knuckles for half a second, sending warmth through his fingers all the up to his forearm. _This boy is fucking extraordinary_. The power he held over Louis already... "How was your shower? Feeling better?"

 

   "Much better, thanks," Harry smiled softly, perching on the edge of the bed. Louis nodded, satisfied, and turned on his heel to leave. "Can I ask you something, Louis?"

 

   Louis stilled, one hand on the doorknob. "Course," he agreed curiously, glancing back at the boy..

 

   "When we were talking earlier, you said ' _we_ don't get much business in the winter'. Does your wife help you run the place?"

 

   Louis laughed heartily, as if Harry had just said the funniest thing in the world, his eyes crinkling behind his glasses in a way that Harry was immediately endeared by. "Nah, I'm not married. I'm single, actually," Harry noted a hint of suggestion in his tone. "My sister and I run it; she's on holiday 'til spring."

 

   "So you're out here all alone?" Harry frowned.

 

   Louis shrugged. "'M not too bothered by it. It's quiet, peaceful.

 

   "You don't get lonely?" Harry asked innocently, cocking his head to one side and unconsciously spreading his legs a little wider, lips pursed into a tiny pout. "All by yourself?"

   Louis was _incredibly_ attractive, Harry couldn't deny it. The thought of the man's scruffy face between his thighs sent blood rushing straight to his cock.

 

   "All by myself," Louis half-shrugged. His cock was hard against his jeans and he begged to whatever divine being in control to _please, pleas_ e not let Harry notice. "I, uh, I'll get you some dessert. In a few minutes. I have to- I'll be back!" he fled from the room before he could embarrass himself any more.

_Careful_ , he hissed to himself, _act normal_ . Oh god, if Harry sensed Louis'... _problem_ , then he might decide to leave. Not that Louis couldn't handle that, but the thought of Harry lusting after him was a fraction more pleasing than the thought of holding him down and forcing him to take it. A _small_ fraction, but still, it was better. He wanted Harry to want him, to beg for him. He wanted so badly to play his games again; it had been _so_ long. Whether Harry was a willing participant or not, Louis _would_ get what he wanted.

 

   Harry dressed in the clothes Louis had left for him; a plain white t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants that fit well enough, aside from the hem pooling around his feet. He hastily ate the food Louis had prepared, his aching stomach slowly easing into relative fullness. He downed the warm tea in one gulp, drank half a glass of water, and fell backwards onto the bed, his heavy eyes slipping closed.

   Fifteen minutes later, Louis trudged up the stairs to Harry's room. He brought in a covered dish, sat it on the dresser, took Harry's empty tray, and left with a nod at the boy sprawled tiredly across the bed.

   Harry groaned as he pulled himself up, not at all wanting to leave the comfort of the soft sheets. He was _so_ exhausted, but Louis had gone through all the trouble of making him dinner and dessert; it'd be rude not to eat any.

 

   His brow wrinkled when he pulled the lid off the dish, revealing a handwritten note, a bottle of lube, and a small, black buttplug. Harry picked up the note, inspecting it before unfolding it. In quick, scrawling script was written:

  


_Put this in. Be back in 15 mins._


	2. Chapter 2

 

  By the time Louis returned, Harry had worked himself into a deep-rooted panic that manifested in his chest and spread all the way to the tips of his toes. His face was red and slick with a cold sweat as he paced restlessly back and forth across the room, clutching the note tightly in his hand. He pressed repeatedly against his bandaged burns in an attempt to calm himself, to feel something other than panic, and it seemed to have a small effect. The intimidating black plug was still sat on the bed, untouched, beside the lube.

  The lube he was familiar with, but the plug...

  The only thing he'd ever had up his ass was a cock and the fingers of whoever he was fucking. Never even his _own_ fingers. He didn't- he wasn't sure what to do, and he was scared. He'd never done this sort of thing on his own. And he'd certainly never done anything sexual with a complete stranger, no matter how gracious they had been.

 

  When Louis finally entered the room, Harry stopped his pacing immediately, his eyes going wide. There was a wide smile on the man's face that quickly fell when he saw the plug still on the tray.

 

  "Harry... why isn't _that_ inside you?" He pointed a finger to the dreaded plug, shooting Harry an accusatory look.

 

  "This... this is a joke, right?" Harry chuckled, full of anxiety and a twinge of hysteria. "You don't- this is a joke?"

 

  "It's not a joke, _Harry_ ," Louis practically spat his name out. "I asked you to fucking do something, and you didn't do it! Now you've made me very angry. After everything I've done for you? Letting you stay here _for free_! Giving you my food, my clothes! And this is how you repay me," he crossed his arms in front of him, looking very much like a disgruntled child. "Unbelievable," he scoffed.

 

  "Louis, I didn't mean to offend you. I'm really sorry... I just didn't know you were serious. I-I've never put anything _up there_ before. Well, besides a cock, but like... I'm not really sure how to do this."

 

  "Ah, so not an act of defiance. You were just confused, yes?" All of the anger melted away, a pleasant smile making its way back onto Louis' face. He pushed his glasses up his nose in a practiced gesture. "Excellent! Lean over the bed, I'll do it for you."

 

  "Wait! Louis, I'm not sure." Tears pricked in Harry's eyes, threatening to spill over. "I'm not sure I wanna d-do this."

 

  "Oh, sweet thing, don't cry," Louis frowned, stepping forward to wipe the tears from his eyes. Harry forced himself not to cringe away from the man. "I won't hurt you, I promise. Well, I won't hurt you if you listen to me. Don't you want to listen to me; to please me? You're a submissive little thing, I can tell. I know you want to please me," he ran his thumb across Harry's cheek, eyes appraising the boy lovingly.

 

  "I don't know, I don't know," Harry squeezed his eyes shut, struggling to keep his breathing steady. "Please Louis, _I don't know!_ "

 

  "Hush now, pretty one," Louis murmured, coming so close to Harry that their toes touched, that Harry could feel Louis' breath on his skin. "Of course you know, silly. The answer is 'yes'. You want to please me. Let's get your plug inside, yeah? Want to play some games? I bet you do! You're a very good boy Harry, an obedient boy, I just know it." Louis' hands hovered over the hem of Harry's shirt as he spoke. He lifted it up painstakingly slow, his cock growing harder and harder as more of Harry's skin was revealed. White as porcelain, soft as cotton. He smelled like Louis' own soap and he inhaled the scent in delight. A moth was inked into his chest in stark black ink and Louis traced his fingers over the lines, causing Harry to shudder.

  "You're very responsive, Harry. Look at how you squirm at my touch," he ran his thumb along Harry's collarbone, sending Harry into an unavoidable series of shivers. "That pleases me very much," Louis smirked, latching onto the place where his thumb had just been and sucking harshly.

 

  Harry's breath hitched, his hands twitching at his sides. This was an entirely different feeling than when Thatcher had done it. He'd felt repulsion and fear, but now he only felt _want_ . Louis' hand trailed down his chest, his stomach, until he reached his cock, gripping it through his pants, making Harry gasp sharply. His hands rose to Louis' jeans and he hooked his fingers through the loops, steadying himself. " _You_ please me," Louis mouthed against his skin. He moved up to Harry's neck, sucking and nipping roughly. "Take your shirt off."

 

  Harry obeyed without question, clumsy hands pulling the clothing over his head. He blushed as Louis looked him up and down hungrily. His hands were back on Harry once again, tracing over the smattering of tattoos on his body.

  "So young and you already have so many tattoos," he said softly. "I have tattoos too, Harry."

 

  "You do?"

 

  Louis nodded, nipping lightly at Harry's jaw. "I do. Would you like to see?"

 

 Harry nodded unthinkingly, his eyes glassy and his mind slow and cloudy with lust.

  Louis grinned, taking Harry's face in his hands. "I'll show you them, every single one, if you bend over the bed. The plug will feel good, Harry, I promise. It won't hurt even a little."

 

  Harry frowned. "Louis, I'm scared," he bit his bottom lip in worry. "I'm still not sure."

 

  Louis grit his teeth, fighting to keep the annoyed look off his face. _He was hard here!_ And Harry didn't even seem to care... Patience is key, it seemed. "I'll make you feel so good, Harry, better than anyone has ever made you feel," his pointer finger circled Harry's right nipple, pinching the rosy bud lightly. "So good that you'll never wanna leave," he smirked, looking at Harry through his lashes. "Don't you want that?"

 

  "Maybe...?" Harry said, his voice rising into a questioning tone. Truthfully, he wasn't sure what he wanted. Louis was _hot_. And creepy. Which, oddly, turned him on. He flushed at the thought, biting back a groan as Louis registered the look in his eyes, his mouth curling into a victorious smile.

 

  "You _do_ want it. Why're you embarrassed, Harry?" his thumb brushed over Harry's cheek and he kissed his lips gently. "You don't have to be embarrassed; it's only me and you here," he whispered against Harry's lips, an arrant reminder.

  Harry was here _alone with this hot-creepy-mind reading stranger_ . But he had fucked his teacher. He had fucked the girl that sat behind him in physics in a bathroom stall. He had sucked off a guy in a car park in broad daylight. Why was _this_ what made him so nervous; sent blood to his cock just at his name passing Louis' lips?

 

  "You like me, Louis?" He questioned, his cheeks a delightful peachy color that Louis adored. "You think I'm pretty?"

 

  "I think you're fucking beautiful, Harry," he breathed, his hands feathering over Harry's hips.

 

  Harry wrapped his hands around Louis' neck, leaning into him and smiling shyly. "I like you, Louis. You're very-"

 

  Louis lifted Harry unceremoniously, wrapping the long legs around his own waist. Harry squealed, holding tighter to Louis. "Are you ready now?" he asked gruffly, sinking his teeth into the flesh of Harry's neck hard enough to break skin. “I can’t wait much longer. You make me _so fucking hard, Harry_.”

 

  Harry cried out, fingers curling. "I- yes, I'm ready." Tears stung his eyes in pain and fear, but he let himself be sat shakily on the ground.

 

  "I changed my mind, Harry," Louis said thoughtfully, gruffly, sucking blood -Harry's blood- from his lips. "I want to see your face. Undress and lie down, on your back, please, near the edge of the bed." He patted the spot where he wanted Harry to lie, watching the boy as he shoved his bottoms off and scrambled onto the bed in a mess of long limbs. "Good boy," he praised, pushing Harry's legs up to his chest. "Stay like this, alright?"

  Harry nodded, his eyes wide and cautious. "Good. Good boy," he repeated. Harry relaxed slightly at the praise.

 

  Louis ran his thumb across Harry's puckered hole, grinning as the boy shivered in response. " _Louis_ ," he whined on an exhale.

 

  "Shh, you're alright. I'll make you feel good; I promise." He knelt down, putting his hands on either side of Harry's hips. "You look so fucking _delicious_ ," he growled against the flesh of Harry's ass, nibbling at it.

 

  Harry moaned as Louis' tongue ran over his entrance in a long stripe before pushing against it. His hands turned to fists around the duvet, his toes curled in pleasure. "Louis! What- What're you doing?" He just _licked_ his bum. His bum!

 

  "How does it feel?" He murmured against his skin. "Good?"

 

  "W-Weird," Harry panted. "Good. Strange."

 

  Louis barked out a laugh and Harry inhaled sharply at the breath against his sensitive skin. "Do it again?" he asked cautiously.

 

  "Eager boy," he hummed, smirking. "There's no rush, babe. We've got all the time in the world."

 

  " _Louis, again_ ," he whined, his cock twitching at the rejection or the want- he wasn't sure.

 

  "I'll consider it." He said shortly, grabbing the long-forgotten lube and covering his fingers thoroughly in it. "Ready?" he looked up at the giant green eyes staring down at him, wide and afraid.

  Harry nodded, unable to force any words out of his mouth. His heart was hammering against his chest and he was torn between wanting to run and wanting more of Louis. He'd never done anything like this before. Already, this made his previous adventures seem dull and boring in comparison.

 

  "Alright," Louis said softly, pressing a chaste kiss to the inside of Harry's thigh. "Tell me if you need me to slow down, okay?"

 

 _But not if I need you to stop_ , Harry thought. "Okay," he croaked out.

 

  He pressed his pointer finger against Harry's hole until the boy forced his muscles to relax and his finger could slip inside. He set up a steady rhythm, getting Harry used to the feeling. Harry whined, throwing his arm over his heated face.

 

  "Does it feel okay?"

 

  "'S fine. Good," Harry gasped, his fingers curling against the duvet.

 

  Louis pushed the tip of his middle finger alongside the first, easing it inside. Harry groaned and Louis soothed him, pressing kisses to his thighs. "You're alright, precious. I wish you could see how beautiful you are; how pretty you look with my fingers inside you. You'd look even better with my cock inside you. We'll get to that tomorrow, yeah? I have other plans for tonight. Tomorrow I'm gonna fuck you, though. Fucking _pound_ you - you'll need help getting back to bed," Louis chuckled. "You want that, Harry? Want my cock, you fuckin' slut?"

 

  Harry's cock ached, hard against the flesh of his tummy. He moaned at Louis words, fucking himself back on his fingers in earnest. "Louis- _god_ , you're-" he gasped as the second finger slid all the way in, brushing briefly -painfully briefly- against his prostate. "You're unbelievable. Fuck!" Tingles of pleasure shot up his spine, causing his back to arch and his toes to curl.

  Louis smirked, removing his fingers and wiping the lube on the blanket.

 

  "What the hell?" Harry shouted incredulously, sitting up on his elbows to glare at Louis. "Why'd you stop?!"

 

  "The plug, Harry," Louis held the item up for Harry to see, smirking cockily. "That was the whole point."

 

  "Fuck the plug!" Harry groaned, flopping back on the bed. "Go back to what you were doing."

 

  Louis smacked the spot where ass meets thigh, hard enough to elicit a shriek of pain and a recoil from Harry. "Don't tell me what to do, Harry," he growled, annoyed. "We're playing _my_ game. _I'm_ in charge, brat. Now stay still."

  Harry's bottom lip wobbled and he pulled it between his teeth to stop it. He held back tears and winced as Louis pushed the plug into place without announcement.

  
  "Now," Louis twirled a finger lazily over the head of Harry's cock with a feather-light touch. His other hand went to Harry's balls, fondling them between slim fingers. "Any preference, Harry: flog, paddle, crop, whip, or cane?"

 


	3. Chapter 3

   

   "Any preference, Harry: flog, paddle, crop, whip, or cane?" 

 

   "W-What?" Harry's eyes widened comically. "What for?" 

 

   "What do you think, you pretty little thing?" Louis stood, hands sliding up Harry's chest until he reached his face, cupping his cheeks. "Are you all beauty and no brains?" He grinned, nipping at Harry's bottom lip. "Use your head, silly boy." He tapped Harry's head and pulled away, walking over to the closet on the other side of the room. 

 

   "You want to hurt me?" Harry asked, sitting up and bringing his knees up to his chin. 

 

   "Mm," Louis hummed, pulling something down from the closet that Harry couldn't see. "Wanna watch your ass turn red," he mused. 

 

   "Louis, I-" he wiped away a tear that tracked down his cheek. "I don't want you to hurt me. I did what you asked! You said you wouldn't hurt me if I did what you asked!" 

 

   "It will be a  _good_  pain, Harry. You'll enjoy it," Louis exited the closet with a thin riding crop in hand, swinging it back and forth. "Haven't you enjoyed everything else we've done? Even if you were scared?" 

   

   "Yes, but this is different!" He gulped,  hugging himself tightly. 

 

   "Don't you trust me, you sweet, silly thing?" Louis tipped Harry's chin up, forcing eye contact. "I know what's good for you, Harry. I know how to make you feel good." 

 

   Harry pulled away, scooting back until his back was against the headboard. "I'm scared, Louis! I need time to decide!" 

 

   Louis blew out an exasperated sigh, hitting the crop against the bed, making Harry jump. He loved seeing Harry jumpy and scared, seeing him cower and whine. "I'm losing my patience, Harry. I'm being nice! I'm being gentle! I can be really fucking mean, if that's what you want! Is it?" 

 

   "No! No, no, no," Harry cried, hiding his face in his crossed arms and crying openly now. "Please Louis, just give me a m-minute," he hiccuped. 

 

   Louis sat on the bed, taking Harry's shaking hand in his own. He couldn't push him too far yet; it was too soon to break the boy completely. "It's alright, baby. I'm sorry I yelled," he apologized softly, kissing Harry's knuckles. "It'll feel so good, my love. So good I bet you'll come just from the feeling," he grinned as Harry peeked up at him. "There you are. Sweet boy," he pecked a kiss to his damp cheek. "No more tears now, yeah? You're safe here." 

 

   "Do we have to do this?" He questioned softly, still coiled in on himself. The way Louis' mood could change in a fraction of a second frightened him; made him want to run and hide from the temperamental man. 

 

   "If you don't like the crop, we can use something else," Louis shrugged. 

 

  
_There really is no getting out of this?_   "Um, I- how long do you want to... hit me for?" he kept his eyes down, picking at his cuticles. 

 

   "Until you beg me to stop. And you  _mean it._ " Louis laughed, eyes crinkling. "I won't really stop until I think you can't handle any more." 

 

   "Louis!" Harry cried, yanking his hand away from Louis', curling in even farther into himself. "Please, you're scaring me," he sniffed. "Can... can't we make a bargain? Like, you can... _hit_ me twenty times? Is that good?" 

 

   Louis grit his teeth, his eyes turning dark. "Are you not going to play by my rules, Harry? This game can get so, _so_ much worse for you and a lot more fun for me. Rule breakers are punished, Harry. Do you want to be punished?" He asked simply, cocking his head to the side with a sinister smirk. 

 

   "No! Louis, no! That's not what I meant," Harry sobbed. "I-I just- can't we play the game another way? Please!" 

 

   A shrill shriek came from Harry's throat as Louis launched forward, taking Harry's chin in his hand. They were nose-to-nose, Louis' fingers digging so hard into his skin that he'd have little dots of purple there the next day. 

   "How many times do I have to tell you? It's _my_ game! _Mine_!" Louis snarled. " _I_ make the rules and _you_. follow. them. Got it now? Or are you still too fucking dull?" 

 Harry's chest heaved, tears tracking down his face as he breathed in tiny, panting breaths. "Answer!" Louis shouted after a moment, slapping Harry's thigh, turning it a light shade of red.

 

   "Yes! Yes, sir! I understand," he cried, trying to pull away, to free himself from Louis' tight grasp. 

 

   "Good," Louis said shortly, letting Harry go with a little shove and standing up. "Now bend over the damn bed. Ass up." 

 

   He motioned with the crop, tapping the spot he wanted Harry at. Harry gulped, stumbling off the bed in his rush to comply. His cock was hard out of fear and he _loathed_ it. He felt ashamed and disgusting. Louis would think he was enjoying this, when he most certainly wasn't. 

   Louis bit his lip at the sight of Harry bending over the bed. His legs looked miles long, his long hair tousled and spilled across the blankets. Strands of messy curls that Louis wanted to pet. 

   He ran the tip of the crop up Harry's thigh, chuckling when the boy flinched. "Look how hard you are, baby," he said in a near-whisper. "Are you leaking yet? Leaking on my duvet?"

 

   "No, sir," Harry answered hoarsely, squeezing his eyes shut. The crop came down fast on his ass, sending prickles of fire across his skin. He cried out, curled his hands into little fists. 

 

   "That's a lie, Harry. Why would you lie to me?" Louis' fingers ran across the spot he'd just hit, cool fingers against heated skin. Harry hissed but leaned into it. "Lift your hips up. See? Just what I said; you lied." 

   Harry looked down at the puddle of pre-cum under him, whining lowly. _No, no, no, no, no._  


 

   "I didn't mean to," he cried raggedly. "I'm sorry!" His chest felt tight, painfully so, and he had a sudden ache of want for his mother - before she'd become an entirely different person. For the way she used to tuck him in; walk him to school; cuddle him when he'd had a bad day. How had he escaped Thatcher only to be thrown into this? _Why him?_  


 

   "It's okay, Harry, these things can get messy. I forgive you." Louis said, and Harry could tell by his tone of voice that he had on that manipulative, arrogant smile. "You need to clean your mess, though." 

 

   Harry looked up at Louis with eyes so frightened and confused that he nearly moaned in pleasure. "I could go get a towel...?" 

 

   Louis shook his head. "No. Use your mouth." 

 

   Harry blushed up to his ears, but nodded obediently. Could be worse, he thought. This was easy enough. He scooted over on his knees and leaned over the puddle, kitten-licking it. He grimaced at the salty, sticky liquid but kept going until the puddle was gone.

   "Good boy," Louis praised, running his hand through Harry's hair. "Very good. Back over the bed now." 

   The praise soothed Harry, filling him with a foolish sense of pride. He got back into the position, trying to hold onto the warm feeling he'd felt. ' _Good boy_  ' played over and over again in his mind. 

   Louis struck without warning, then again twice. Harry jumped, shrieking at each swat. They came all over, striking every inch of skin on his ass and thighs and never stopping. Harry cried and pleaded, begged Louis to stop, but he never relented. 

   "You look beautiful," Louis said over the noise of the slaps and Harry's cries. " _Fucking beautiful_. Nearly done, babe. I can see you breaking," he smiled, increasing the strength behind the swats.  

 

   Harry was in too much pain to ponder Louis' words. His backside was searing; he'd never felt pain like this - so continuous and severe. "Please, stop!" he cried, hot tears tracking down his cheeks. "Please, please, _please_!" 

 

   "Begging won't help, baby. I'll stop when _I_ think you've had enough." 

 

   Harry tried to pull himself up, tried to crawl onto the bed and away from Louis, but the spanking became unbelievably painful until Harry returned to his place. "Don't move again or I'll decide you need the whip. Understand?" 

 

   "Yes! Yes, I understand!" He screamed. 

 

   Louis spanked until all of the tension left his body. Until he was so exhausted and hurt that he could only lie limply and sob silently. Then he threw the crop aside and pulled Harry onto the bed, turning him on his back. He cried hoarsely at the pain, so unbearable he thought he might pass out. He was positive he was bleeding and already covered in purple and blue bruises. 

   Louis shoved his pants off and straddled Harry's waist, his own cock in hand and pumping fast. His left hand slid up to Harry's neck, gradually adding pressure until Harry could only breath in short, gasping breaths. Louis threw his head back, sucking his lip between his teeth and moaning as he came all over the boy's pretty face. Harry cried harder but didn't fight. He just wanted to sleep; why wouldn't Louis just let him sleep? 

   After marveling the image for a few minutes, Louis tucked his cock into his boxers and fell back onto the bed. "Don't wipe that off, understand me? You'll fucking regret it if you do." 

 

   "Okay," Harry whispered, rolling onto his side and tucking into himself, shivering despite the sweat covering his skin. His body ached terribly. 

 

   Louis stood and came back with Harry's unfinished glass of water. "Sit up. Drink." 

 

   Harry struggled to lift himself, nearly screaming at the pain in his ass. Louis put the glass to his lips and made him drink the whole thing. "Good boy, Harry," he smiled, the kind of smile that Harry had first seen on him. Louis kissed his forehead and helped him lie back down, bringing the blankets up to his chin. "There you go. I'll be right back." 

 

   Harry listened as Louis went into the bathroom. He heard him piss, heard the toilet flush, the faucet running. Then he was back -all too soon- and crawling into bed next to Harry. 

   "We'll get that off your face in the morning, alright?" Louis told him, wrapping his arm around Harry's waist and pulling him closer. The sticky substance was already almost dry, splattered across Harry's cheeks and chin and nose. It was itchy and horrible; filling his nostrils with the scent. "Get some rest. I'm gonna wear you out tomorrow," he laughed, biting Harry's shoulder. 

 

   As Louis drifted off, Harry couldn't help but wonder if he would've been better off with Thatcher. He could've roughed it out for one night, and then his mother would be home and everything would -probably- return to normal. Louis scared him; he was unpredictable and moody. And smart too, unlike Thatch. Harry didn't know what Louis was planning. Did he want to keep Harry? Kill him? Let him go? Maybe he just wanted to play with Harry for a bit and then it'd be over...

 

   Louis' arm stayed tight around Harry even in sleep, keeping him trapped there. Despite his exhaustion, Harry couldn't silence his thoughts long enough to cave into sleep. He lay wide awake, anxiously biting his nails until they bled. He pressed on his burn over and over until he cried from the pain. 

   Just less than an hour ago, he'd told Louis he _liked_ him. Louis was scarily temperamental, anytime Harry opposed him he became furious. He contemplated sneaking out of bed and throwing the damned crop into the fire, but he didn't want to risk Louis waking up. Harry didn't want to think about what Louis would do if he woke to Harry throwing his possessions into the flames. 

 

 

 

 

   By the time morning broke, Harry had had fitful bursts of sleep on and off throughout the night. His face was blotchy and tearstained; Louis' arm was still wrapped tightly around Harry's waist and his head rested against Harry's shoulder. Louis had slept soundly, blissfully curled around his precious new toy all night - he'd even dreamt of Harry. 

   Harry watched detachedly as a tiny mouse scurried along beside the baseboard. The mouse stopped, lifting his head and stared at Harry with his beady eyes as if he had felt Harry's own eyes on him. Their eyes stayed locked for a few seconds, and then the mouse looked away and continued on his path. He burrowed under the dresser, out of sight. 

 

   "What're you doing awake already?" Louis mumbled in a sleep-heavy voice, his eyes still closed. Harry wouldn't stop moving in his arms, it was driving him insane. 

 

   "There's a mouse," Harry told him softly, watching the place where the mouse had disappeared. 

 

   Louis groaned, his face pinching. "Have to set some traps, I guess." 

 

   Harry frowned, shivering at the chill that crawled up his spine. "He's just looking for someplace warm to stay." 

 

   "Yeah, like in my cereal boxes, or my fucking mattress. You let those things stick around, they'll chew the shit out of everything you own." Louis nuzzled against Harry's shoulder, pressing little kisses to the cold skin. 

   Harry frowned deeply and tucked further in on himself. It wasn't too bad when Louis was asleep. Then he could pretend that it wasn't Louis wrapped around him - it was Zayn or Mr. Adams or someone else he'd fucked a handful of times and liked well enough. 

 

   "I- could I use the bathroom?" he asked quietly, stiff in Louis' arms now that he'd woken up. 

 

   "Go on. Leave the door open," he ordered, removing his grip on Harry's waist. Harry launched himself out of the bed, elated to be free of Louis _finally_. "And, hey, you can wash your face now!" he called.

 

   Harry was annoyed that he wasn't allowed to close the door, but at least Louis' eyes were still closed. His face was painfully itchy from the fluid that had dried across it. Harry pissed, used the spare toothbrush still in it's packaging on the counter, and brushed through his tangled hair with his fingers. There was small dots of bruises splattered across his jaw line that he observed with a furrowed brow as he cleaned his face. He contemplated taking a shower just to have more time away from Louis, but he wasn't sure how Louis would feel about that...

   Instead, he returned to the bed, perching warily on the edge of it. A small smile spread across his face as he remembered his clothes from last night and spotted them on the other side of the room. As he was pulling the underwear up his legs, Louis stopped him. 

 

   "I'll get you some new clothes, Harry." He said. There was something in his voice that Harry couldn't make out, as if we knew something that Harry didn't. 

 

   "Oh," Harry dropped the pants and stepped out of them. "Alright. You don't have to - I mean, it's no big deal," he said quietly, twisting his fingers nervously in front of him. 

 

   "Just say 'thank you', my love," Louis laughed, sitting up and stretching his arms above his head with a groan. Harry's eyes landed on Louis' chest, lean and sporadically covered in tattoos. 

 

   "Thank you," he mumbled, looking down at his feet with flaming cheeks. 

 

   "Sit on the bed," Louis said as he stood. "I'll be right back." He gave Harry a peck to his cheek and a smack to his ass as he passed, walking out of the room completely bare. 

   The smack, light as it was, brought tears to Harry's eyes from the pain of his extremely sore backside. He didn't want to even think about how awful it must look. He winced as he sat on the edge of the bed, taking deep breaths to steady himself and wiping his tears away. 

   Louis returned to the room with a pair of boxers on and a huge smile on his face. "I slept so fucking good. How about you?" He didn't wait for Harry to answer before he started speaking again. "Here's some clothes," he said, handing the small pile off to Harry. "We'll go have breakfast as soon as you're dressed." He grabbed Harry's clothes from the night before and threw them in a hamper. 

 

   Harry's breath caught as he looked over the items Louis had brought for him. A large t-shirt that would probably go down to his thighs, and a pair of panties. _Panties_. "I- um, I think you brought me the wrong underwear, Louis," he held the panties up, a nervous, crooked grin on his face. 

 

   Louis shook his head, smiling hard enough that a dimple formed in his cheek. "Nah. I thought you'd look good in those. They've never been worn or anything; don't worry." 

 

   "I don't want to wear these!" Harry affronted. "They're for girls!" 

 

   Louis looked dumbstruck for a moment, then his face fell into a scowl. "Who says they're for girls, Harry?" he leered. "Have you forgotten who's house your in? Have you forgotten who's been so kind to you? I give you clothes and you shout at me that they're for girls! I don't give a fuck _who they're for_. You'll wear whatever the fuck I give you," he snarled lowly. 

 

   Harry's breath caught in his throat and he fumbled backwards on the bed at every step Louis took forward. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry, Louis, forgive me!" 

 

   Louis scoffed, storming off to the bathroom. "Put your damn clothes on and wait for me there." 

 

   Harry's heart beat furiously against his chest. He was so frightened he feared he might faint. Louis made his skin crawl, made him break out in a sweat just with that voice he used when he was angry. Harry _feared_ Louis. 

   He nearly burst into a fresh bout of tears as he slipped the panties up his thighs. They were white and lacy, the outline of his cock showing clearly. They were so damn itchy and tight; why couldn't he just wear fucking boxers? He hurried to put his shirt on. His cheeks flamed in embarrassment and he tugged the shirt as far down as it would go. 

   Louis came out a moment later, surrounded by the smell of mint and seeming to be in a much better mood already. He approached Harry, cupped his cheek in his bony hand. "Meek boy. Why're you so embarrassed? It's only you and I." 

 

   Harry panted, wanting so desperately to recoil from Louis' touch. "I've never done this before," he stuttered out. "Worn... knickers, I mean." 

 

   "Let's have a look, yeah? Lemme see." 

 

   Harry whined lowly, twirling around on his heel and yanking the shirt up. Louis' sucked in a breath, his fingers ghosting over the curve of Harry's ass. The fabric was so tight against it and his balls were encased in lace. "Shit," he gasped. "God, those suit you. I really mean it, Harry." 

   Harry closed his eyes tightly, praying for this moment end. Louis wrapped an arm around his waist and bit at his shoulder gently. His other hand trailed up Harry's ass, cupping it. 

   "You're ethereal. I've never met anyone like you," Louis whispered with so much adoration in his voice that Harry felt sick. "I want you to be mine." 

 

   Harry waited a moment before speaking timidly. "I-I'm hungry. Can we go eat?" 

 

   Louis sighed, kissing the spot he'd just bitten, and grabbed Harry's hand. "Let's go."

 

 

 

 

 

   At the large dining table, Harry picked at the breakfast Louis had made him. He was hungry, he knew that, but he felt too uneasy to eat. He took small bites of toast and sips of orange juice. 

   "You not hungry?" Louis asked, taking a huge bite of his own toast. 

 

   "Feel a bit sick, is all," Harry said honestly, looking up at Louis from beneath his lashed. 

 

   "Need a acetaminophen or something?" 

 

   Harry shook his head, taking another tentative bite. "I'll be fine. Thank you." 

 

    Louis finished the last of his breakfast in a matter of minutes, carrying his plate to the kitchen, which was right beside the dining room. "What would you like to do today, Harry?" he called over the sound of the faucet. 

 

   Harry froze, feeling his heart race increase. "Maybe- I was thinking I might... go home?" The sound of flowing water cut off abruptly. Harry stiffened in his chair, trying to still his shaking hands. 

 

   "You want to leave?" Louis asked, and Harry couldn't detect any emotion in his voice. 

 

   "I only planned to stay one night," he mumbled so lowly he doubted Louis could hear him. 

 

   "That's not what I planned!" Louis threw his plate down, shattering it. Harry yelped and curled in on himself, bursting into tears and muttering out apologies. "I honestly can't believe you! Don't you realize how much I've done for you? And you just want to up and leave!" 

 

   "I'm s-sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Harry repeated over and over. 

 

   Louis huffed, running a hand through his hair and cursing. "You know what," he started, stepping over the glass and into the dining room. "We can fix this. I'll fix it. I fix everything," he murmured to himself, pacing around the table and making Harry feel cornered. 

 

   "L-Louis?" he hiccuped. 

 

   "Just let me think for a minute!" Louis slammed a fist down on the dining table, looking manic. 

 

   Harry shrieked, tucking back in on himself and throwing his arms over his head. 

 

   "Alright. Okay, I've got it," he said after a couple more minutes of pacing. Harry peaked up and the glint in Louis' eye sent a shiver of terror down his spine; made him contemplate for a split second of running out the door and taking his chances. A smile stretched across Louis' face and his hand grasped Harry's pulling him out of the chair. 

 

   "Come on, Harry. I've got something I wanna show you." 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well


	4. Chapter 4

 

  "Where are we going?" Harry asked as Louis pulled him through the back door, holding tight to Harry's hand. "What are we doing?" 

 

  "Look how nice it is today," Louis ignored Harry's questions, inhaling deeply and surveyed the grounds. "I actually don't come out here that much; it's a shame, isn't it? Isn't it nice out here?" 

 

  Harry looked around, to the crumbling brick pathways all across the yard, the flower beds that were empty for the winter, the little awning on the far side of the yard that sat above a wrought iron table and chairs. A green, old-looking shed was on the other side of the lawn, tucked away so that it was almost in the woods. 

  "It's pretty," Harry agreed quietly. He was still shooken up from what had just happened, but the cool, fresh air seemed to calm his nerves slightly. "Who cares for it?" 

 

  "Lottie likes the gardening and all that," he said, tugging Harry down the steps. "Her fiancée helps her sometimes." 

 

  "Fiancée?" 

 

  "Yeah, she's getting married soon. In a month or so. They took a vacation from all the wedding planning shit," he shrugged, walking along the brick path with a firm grip on Harry's wrist. "After the wedding, he and Lottie are moving in together, so she won't be staying here anymore," he grinned. "Not that I minded it or anything. It'll just be nice to have it to myself. Then she won't disturb us, huh?" 

 

  Harry's stomach roiled and he looked to the thick woods longingly. He wanted to disappeared in them, away from Louis and this place he’d thought would offer solace until he could return home. "Can we go inside? I'm cold," he motioned to his bare legs. Louis himself was nearly naked and Harry wondered how he wasn't shivering. 

 

  Louis shook his head, leading Harry over to the small shed. "I didn't just want to show you the yard. I wanted to show you this too," he grinned.

 

  Harry frowned, confused. "The shed?" 

 

  "Yep." Louis pulled out a set of keys and somehow managed to unlock the deadbolt with only one free hand. He couldn't risk Harry bolting. He swung the creaking door open and smiled widely as Harry inspected the space. 

 

  There was a large table against the back wall, which was bare aside from a little tool box. Tools hung from rusty hooks overhead on a wooden board. A lawn mower was pushed against one corner and bags of fertilizer against the other. 

  "Why'd you want to show me this?" Harry asked, frightened by the smirk on Louis' face. He attempted a joke, "Want me to do your lawn work or somethin'?" 

 

  Louis laughed, releasing Harry's wrist and sliding his arm around his waist instead. "Not at all, babe. I thought we could play a little game. You made me angry, don't you remember? You were quite rude. Don't you want to make it up to me, your gracious host?" He smiled, marveling the marks placed sporadically around Harry's throat. He wanted to suck a new one at the place where Louis could see his pulse quickening in fear. Blood rushed to his cock and he nearly moaned at the terror in Harry's eyes. 

 

  "What kind of game?" Harry stared at all the tools; the screwdrivers and wrenches and hammers and pliers and saws. Things that could hurt him -kill him- and here he stood with a man who enjoyed causing him pain, implements of torture at his fingertips. 

 

  "See, my dad built this house a long time ago, right before I was born," Louis explained, guiding Harry into the shed, which was a little warmer than standing directly outside. "He and my mother knew they'd have a lot of children, that's why the house is so large. I grew up here with my siblings. Isn't that sweet?" Harry nodded when he realized Louis wouldn't continue without acknowledgement. "My siblings, they're all over the place now. The youngest twins are in America for college. Daisy's in Australia and Phoebe in Scotland. Fizzy married some guy from Canada. Only me and Lottie stayed here. Dad died a few years back and mum's living with her sister - said she didn't want to stay in this house anymore. Doesn't even come 'round for visits." 

 

  "This shed, though, it was built when I was about fifteen. My dad made this, too. Not as old as the house, but it is old," he smirked. "Not the sturdiest of buildings. I've had to patch it up half a dozen times or so before." 

  "This board here, particularly, has come loose a few times," he said, tapping the board directly above the table. He held up two fingers, "Twice, I believe. It's a real mess, all the tools strewn all over the place." 

 

  Harry gulped, not at all liking this discussion and especially not the glint in Louis' eyes. "I'm gonna fuck you here, on this table, Harry." He said simply. "I fuck you too hard, some of these tools could fall right on you," Louis said casually, lifting his shoulder in a shrug. He looked at Harry, his lips turning up in an eerie smile. "Let's hope that doesn't happen." 

 

  "Wait, Louis! Let's just go inside, yeah? It's nice and warm, we can go up to my room?" He rambled, attaching himself to Louis and placing kisses all across his face as he spoke, his hands roaming over Louis' back. "Or we could go in the shower. Doesn't that sound fun?" 

 

  Louis wasn't deterred by Harry's bargaining. The boy amused him. He wouldn't let him be wounded enough to  _ really _ hurt, he knew that. But Harry didn't. He cupped Harry's ass in his hands, slipping his fingers under the lacy knickers. "I think my idea is much better, sweets, sorry. Maybe next time, yeah?" He took Harry's bottom lip between his teeth, biting until he drew blood. Harry whined, hands curling into fists. Louis lapped at the blood and moved on to his neck, admiring the marks that juxtaposed against his light skin as well as adding new ones. 

 

  "Louis, please, can't we do something else?" Harry begged, tears crawling down his cheeks. "Anything? Please?" 

 

  "My game, Harry," Louis sing-songed, pressing on Harry's plug until he moaned. "How disobedient are you, silly boy? You've only just angered me and you already want to do it again? I haven't even started punishing you yet. I wonder how much discipline it will take before you're my good, pliant boy." He mused, sliding Harry's panties down his thighs. 

 

  "Louis,  _ please _ ." 

 

  "I do love hearing you beg, Harry, but say please once more and I won't even let you wet my cock with your spit before I fuck you." 

  Louis tugged down the panties, ordering Harry to step out of them and take off his shirt. The shaken boy complied, and knelt in front of Louis at his command. "I don't have any lube. For your own good, make sure it's wet enough." 

 

  Harry glared at Louis' crotch, tugging down the boxers with shaking hands. His cock sprung free, already hard and leaking a tiny amount of pre cum. Harry gulped, took a few deep, steadying breaths, and engulfed the head. He spent several minutes sucking lightly on Louis' cock, getting it wet from base to tip. Louis would groan occasionally, his fist bound in a mess of Harry's curls. 

  He yanked Harry off his cock without warning and lifted him up, dropping him onto his back on the table. Harry shrieked, covering his face with his hands as the tools swung precariously back and forth on their hooks.

  Louis threw Harry's legs over his own shoulders and tugged at the plug, pushing it in small circles that sent jolts of pleasure to Harry's cock. He gasped out Louis' name, fingers curling around the edge of the table. His cheeks flushed in shame; shame at liking what Louis was doing; shame in even being in this position in the first place. 

  The plug was pulled out with a 'plop', leftover lube shining against Harry's rim. 

 

  "What was it you said yesterday? 'Fuck the plug'. I believe that was it. But look! You're already all stretched out," he lined up his cock with Harry's hole, pushing the tip in. His eyes rolled back and he held on to Harry's hips to steady himself. "Holy  _ shit _ , you're incredible. How do you manage to turn me on so much, you dim little thing?" 

  Harry groaned as Louis slipped inside him, ever so slowly, until he finally pressed against his neglected prostrate. He moaned, his toes curling in pleasure, oddly aroused by Louis' words. 

  "I knew you'd like this," Louis crooned, working up a quick pace. "I'm always right, aren't I? Don't you think so, Harry?" 

 

  Harry nodded unthinkingly, his mouth dropped open, whines of bliss passing his lips.  

  He flinched when something cold was pressed against his neck. He pried his eyes open and saw the bloodthirsty look on Louis' face, the lust clouding his eyes, and he instantly knew what it was. 

  "Please don't, please don't kill me!" Harry begged, sobbing harshly.  _ This _ was how he was going to die? His throat slit as he was getting fucked up his ass in a garden shed? "Please, Louis! I'll do anything!" 

 

  "You said please! Lucky for you, we're past that point,” he grunted, fucking so fast that Harry feared his hand would slip. “I won't kill you, you silly, precious boy," Louis laughed, pressing the blade hard enough to draw a tiny amount of blood. Harry's eyes shut tight and he bit back sobs. "You were so worried about the things above you, and then I pull out my knife!" Louis chuckled, shaking with laughter as he fucked harder into Harry. "I love surprising you, love that look on your face when you're scared. It drives me fucking  _ wild _ ," he threw his head back in a moan, snapping his hips and eliciting a groan from Harry. "I could fuck you every day of my life and never get tired of it."

 

  "What would you do if I pressed this to your cock?" Harry whined in response, sending Louis into another fit of laughter. "You know, before I saw it I thought,  _ 'It's either fuckin' huge or its tiny.' _ Turns out it's just average. What is it, 5 inches hard?" 

 

  Harry's cock was half hard, confused by the pounding on his prostate and the knife to his neck. Harry liked pain, yes, but fear? Not so much; not to this degree, at least. 

  'Please' sat on the tip of his tongue, aching to sound itself out in a grating, croaking voice. His throat was parched and he regretted not filling his gut with water when he'd had the chance. He wanted this to end already. His anger was right there with his pleasure, the two intertwining. He wanted Louis, wanted the good  _ and _ the bad. He wanted to snatch the knife away and push it into the man's chest until he stopped breathing. 

 

  "I see that look in your eyes, Harry," Louis growled, a new wave of ecstasy sweeping over him and he knew he couldn't hold off his orgasm much longer. Harry was his best game, his best boy. His fingernails clawing at Harry's hips, drawing blood. "You can't hide from me, stupid boy." The hand holding the knife threw the damned weapon aside, moving to grasp Harry's cock and pumping with perfect technique. "I know you're angry with me, but I will make you feel so good. And then we will go inside, and I will get you all warm again and we'll have a bath, you and I together," he breathed the words against Harry's jaw as if they were erotic. 

  Louis' glasses were falling down his nose, fogged up now, and he pushed them up in a swift motion. Sweat shined on his skin and the sun rising behind him illuminated his body with pale light. Harry's eyes attached to the saw directly above him, and he wondered how badly it'd hurt if it fell on him. It wasn't that high up, maybe three or four feet, but it looked sharp enough and its edges were orange with rust. 

 

  There was a possibility. Killed by tetanus. 

 

  " _ Look at me _ , you stupid thing, eyes on me. Do you want to come, Harry?" Louis panted above him, bending down to place sloppy kisses along Harry's lips. "Good boys get to come, and you've behaved very well." 

 

  Harry nodded, ecstasy overtaking anger, eyes gone glassy as Louis hit his prostate again and again, fucking him so fast that Harry's vision blurred. His back arched and his head was thrown back. He moaned louder than he ever had before, his fingers scratching down Louis' back hard enough to break skin and send rivulets of blood down the sweat-slick skin. 

 

  Louis came hard at the pain, the tightness of Harry around his cock, the look on the writhing boy's face as he fucked him without care, pumping Harry’s cock fast in his grip. 

 

  "Go ahead, come for me." 

 

  Harry's seed spilled across his chest in thick streams, hot against his skin. He was out of breath, grasping desperately onto Louis. Tears streaked down his cheeks before he could stop them. His hands were shaking and he couldn't still them, the only words he could force past his swollen lips were Louis' name. He managed to distantly register that that was, in a weird, twisted way, the best sex he'd ever had. 

 

  "You sweet, broken boy," Louis cooed, pulling out of Harry carefully -grinning as he winced- and scooped him into his arms. "Let's get you all cleaned up, yeah? Are you hungry now? You didn't eat much, poor thing." He nosed Harry's sweaty curls, pressed gentle kisses along his temple. "I love you so much, Harry. You're my favorite toy, and I'll never throw you away. I promise." 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ignore mistakes pls i'm only a tiny human


	5. Chapter 5

 

  Harry started as he was lowered into the tub full of warm water. He clutched onto Louis' shoulders, whining lowly. 

 

  "You're alright, my love," Louis cooed, settling him in the tub. He groaned at the heat on his sore backside, good but painful. The feeling made his eyes roll back and his body go limp. "There you are," Louis sat him up and slipped in behind him before laying them both back. "There. All better." 

  He kissed Harry's cheek, cuddling close to the boy. Harry was groggy and exhausted. He'd never been fucked that good, and after a night of little sleep, he was thoroughly worn out. 

 

  "No bath," he sniffed, shifting around so he could curl up against Louis' chest. He wouldn't do that if he weren't so tired, he told himself. He just needed some comfort after what had happened. "Sleep." 

 

  "Just a quick bath, baby. Then I'll let you sleep, alright?" 

 

  The warm, soapy water managed to pull him out of his head a bit. He'd burrowed far away in his mind to escape what had just happened, what he'd just  _ enjoyed _ happening. 

  But now, Louis was pulling him out of his head. Away from the place that felt like safety; the only safety he'd known since coming here.  _ Why was Louis always taking things from him? _

 

  "Harry, my love," Louis crooned, running a soap-filled cloth over Harry's chest, his fingers brushing through the damp curls. "Are you alright? Can you speak for me?" 

 

  "Already did," Harry turned his nose up. 

 

  Louis laughed, wrapping his arms around the spent boy. "I meant a conversation. I've been meaning to ask about this, Harry." 

 

  Harry's senses were dulled, he could tell, but he winced in pain as Louis tapped the bandage on the fleshy part of his wrist. "Fuck," he hissed. "Don't do that." 

 

  "What happened to your wrist? And don't snap at me like that." 

 

  "Got burned," Harry gulped. 

 

  "Let's see it, then." 

  Before Harry could protest, the bandage was ripped away. Harry tried to bring his arm up to his chest, tried to hide the wound, but Louis held his arm still in a firm grip. It looked better than it had yesterday, but the flesh was still a deep, angry red, now beginning to scab over. 

 

  "'S it a cigarette burn?" 

 

  "Why do you  _ care _ ?" Harry snarled, trying to wriggle out of Louis' grasp. 

 

  Louis slapped Harry's exposed thigh. He yelped, tears pricking his eyes. 

  "Don't speak to me like that," Louis said in his ear, just as viciously as Harry had spoken. "I care because I care about  _ you _ . Was it a cigarette? Did someone burn you?" 

 

  "Yes!" Harry cried, frustrated and tired and hurting from the smack on his wet skin. "Yes, it was a cigarette. Someone burned me." 

 

  "Who burned you, my love?" Louis' thumb moved in slow circles around the wound. His voice had gone deceptively calm again; Harry couldn't keep up with the damn mood swings. Harry frowned deeply. He wanted away from Louis. He needed time alone, even only for a bit. "My stepdad. Before I came here. Can you let go now?" 

 

  He'd said it more forcefully than Louis would've liked, but Harry's behavior would improve with time, Louis told himself. Once Louis' plan was  _ really _ put into motion, Harry would be much better behaved. Louis' sweet, docile boy; all for him. 

 

  "You need some antibiotics," Louis said, and released Harry's arm. "Just in case." 

 

  "I'm fine," he protested, suddenly feeling very self conscious and very awake. He moved so he was facing the faucet and pulled his legs up to his chest, wrapped his arms around them, and rested his chin on his knees. "Can I have some proper clothes now, please? I... I'll behave now, I promise." 

 

  "What did I just say, Harry?" Louis asked softly, kissing Harry's shoulder. "What did I say you need?" 

 

  "Antibiotics," Harry ducked his head, cheeks flushed in unknown shame.

 

  "That's right, very good. Smart boy," Louis praised. Harry shoved down the warm, pleased feeling that rose in his chest. He supposed Louis treating him as if were dumb meant he was praised for even the smallest tasks - but the praise gave him a foolish sense of pride nonetheless. "And who knows how to take care of you best, huh? Who knows what you need?" 

 

  Harry shivered, drawing further into himself. Louis' lips traveled down his spine, across his shoulders, kissing and nipping. "You do," he whispered. Tears flooded his vision and he couldn't pinpoint why. Shame? Fear? Repulsion? 

 

  "So what're you going to take for me?" 

 

  "Antibiotics." 

 

  "And what're you going to wear?" 

 

  "Whatever you want." 

 

  "That's right! Very good boy," he praised him with a kiss to his cheek. "Let's get you clean and I'll take you up to bed." 

  
  
  
  
  


  Harry kept his head in the crook of Louis' neck after he'd been wrapped in a towel and lifted into his arms. He didn't peek his head up until he noticed that they were going up another flight of stairs. His room, with the fireplace and the comfy bed and soft sheets, was on the second floor. He wasn't even aware that there  _ was _ a third floor. 

 

  This stairwell was cramped and steep. Louis had to hold Harry tighter in his arm, his knees nearly pushed up to his chest. 

 

  "Where are we going?" 

 

  "To my room," Louis looked down at him, smiling softly. 

 

  Harry frowned, aching for the familiarity of his borrowed room, the little bit of comfort he'd been offered since coming here.  _ He just wanted to rest.  _

 

  At the top of the stairs was a door with two locks: one on the knob and another that slid into place. Louis let Harry down so he could unlock the door, shoving it open and nudging Harry inside. The room -  _ attic _ \- was fairly large, only slightly smaller than the room Harry had stayed in. Louis' bed was larger than his own, taking up an entire wall. An air conditioning unit whirred in the only window - which faced the backyard; Harry spotted the shed and a shiver ran down his spine. 

  There was an entire wall of shelves, filled with books and trinkets and DVDs. Two other doors were on the left side of the room - a bathroom and a closet, Harry guessed. A fluffy rug sat in the middle of the room, discarded lube bottles and dirty clothes thrown across it. 

 

  Louis' chin rested on Harry's shoulder, his arms encircling the slender waist. "I want you to stay in here now." 

 

  Harry nibbling at his bottom lip. What could he say? No? He didn't  _ want _ to see Louis' room, didn't want to see something so personal. He didn't want to  _ know _ Louis, to be comfortable with him. 

  "I... I liked the other room fine, Louis. You don't have to let me stay in your room, really..."

 

  Louis growled, landing a harsh spank on Harry's backside. "I'm not  _ stupid _ , you fucking brat. You'll stay wherever the fuck I tell you to, won't you?" 

 

  "Louis,  _ please _ ," Harry tried to get out of his grip, to face him, but Louis kept him in place. "I don't want to play this game anymore! I want to go home now." 

  "Oh, do you?" Louis laughed darkly, his thumb hovering threateningly over the burn on Harry's wrist. 

  No matter how horrific Thatcher may be, it had to be better than this... Better than the uncertainty of Louis and his games. 

 

  "Yes. I want to go home," he whispered, too frightened to say the words aloud. 

 

  Louis' thumb pressed into the wound, igniting the pain all over again as if he'd just been burned - white heat crawling across his skin. The crescent of his nail cut into the skin, drawing blood. Harry screamed, writhing desperately in Louis' grip. Pleas fell from his lips but they were ignored. Louis' teeth dug deeply into his shoulder and Harry couldn't focus on one pain above the other. 

 

  Louis pulled away but the pain was still there. Harry fell to his knees, clutching his arm to his chest in a pathetic attempt to protect it. 

 

 Louis scoffed, muttering something about how it'd only been a few seconds. "You better have a damn good apology ready when I get back or you'll be fucking sorry." 

 

  The door slam shut and Harry listened as both locks clicked into place. He sobbed quietly, dizzy from the pain and disoriented from lack of sleep and food. 

 

  He crawled himself over to the rug and laid down on the soft material. He hissed when he peeked at his wrist, slick with blood and bright red, the scab that had started to form now gone. 

 

  His chest ached in despair. He couldn't entertain the thought for even a second that Louis would never let him go, keep him perpetually dangling here in a place between pain and pleasure. He  _ would _ get out of here - he knew it.

  
  
  
  


  At some point, Harry had dozed off on the rug, curled around his injured arm. He was startled awake at the sound of the door being thrown open. He shuffled onto his knees, head lowered in shame. His wrist pulsed painfully at the sight of Louis. 

 

  Louis grew hard at the cowering, at Harry's shoulders hunched in protectively, the shivering in his hands. 

  "Well?" He snapped after Harry said nothing. "Have you got anything to say to me?" 

 

  "I'm sorry," he muttered lowly, too frightened to look the man in the eyes. "I'm sorry for what I said." 

 

  "That's not much of an apology. You won't even look at me." Harry slowly raked his eyes over Louis' now-clothed body, stopping once their eyes met. "Much better. Now apologize properly." 

 

  "I'm sorry for what I said, Louis," he blushed up to the tips of his ears in humiliation. Below his embarrassment and fear was anger, burning lowly in his chest, but there and easily ignitable with the right amount of prodding, he worried. "Please forgive me." 

 

  Louis frowned. He wanted Harry groveling at his feet, begging for his forgiveness. He wanted the boy distraught over the thought of Louis being displeased with him. "You're shit at apologies, aren't you? You'll improve, I suppose." 

 

  "I could be persuaded to forgive you," he spoke plainly, one hand working on removing his belt. "If you were to entertain me. What do you say, Harry? Would you like the chance to make it up to me?" 

 

  Harry whined as Louis pulled his belt from the loops, coiling it once around his hand, forming a loop out of the leather. He shuffled backwards until he pressed against the wall. 

  "Why're you scuttling away from me? You look like a dimwitted dog. Come over here." 

 

  Harry didn't move, only squeezed his eyes shut and grit his teeth. What could he do? If he obeyed, he'd be hurt; if he denied, he'd be hurt. Perhaps less so, but hurt all the same. 

 

_   Fuck.  _

 

  "Last chance. Come  _ here _ ."

 

  Harry whimpered, beginning to stand when Louis stopped him. 

 

  "No.  _ Crawl _ over here." 

 

  He gulped and a new flush broke out across his chest. He leaned forward onto his hands and knees, crawling until his eyes were staring down at Louis' socked feet. 

 

  "Good puppy," Louis praised, finally sounding pleased. He pet Harry's hair softly. "There, now you're behaving, huh? I hadn't realized until now; you're just a dog, aren't you? That's why you're so dull! I'd begun to think you were dropped on your head as an infant." He laughed, scratching behind Harry's ear. 

 

  Angry tears welled in Harry's eyes. He wanted to jerk away from Louis' touch, but he'd only land himself in more trouble. 

 

  "Don't worry though, my love. I've always liked dogs. And you're so sweet, aren't you? The best puppies are affectionate little things; they live to please their owners." 

  "I only need you to do one thing; so simple that even a dog like you will understand. I need you to crawl across the room, and climb up on the bed. Lie on the edge of it with your feet on the ground, alright? Can you do that?" 

 

  "No! Louis,  _ please _ , I need-" 

 

  "Quiet, dog!" Harry squeaked, instinctively drawing in on himself. He glanced up at Louis from beneath his hair and paled at the look on his face. "I don't want to hear you speak right now. Go, on the bed. Before I get angry." 

 

  Harry crawled hastily across the room, diving onto the unmade bed. He wanted to burrow under the bed until Louis calmed down - until he was the sweet, gentle Louis that Harry had met the night before when he'd first arrived. 

 

  "I try to be fucking gentle with you, give you a chance to do things correctly, and you just disobey me! Disobedience leads to punishment, Harry. Even a mind as simple as yours should be able to understand that. I suppose I'll have to teach a few things." 

 

  Harry whined, burying his face in the blankets and clutching at the sheets. He'd been naked since this morning; he wanted clothes, and piles of blankets, and a spot to curl up in front of a fire. Louis' room didn't have a fireplace like his other one had, just an electric heater a few feet away from the bed. 

 

  "Thirty strikes, alright? Can you tell me what you did wrong? Do you remember?" 

 

  "I-I," Harry gulped. His eyes stung from how much he'd cried in the past two days. "I said I wanted to go home." 

 

  "You did," Louis trailed the soft leather over Harry's backside. "Do you know why that's bad?" 

 

  "Because... you want me?" 

 

  Louis nodded. "I do want you. But the answer I was looking for was loyalty. Dogs are loyal to their masters, Harry. Dogs don't want to leave their masters, they want to stay by their side forever. Do you understand that?" 

 

  "Yes, sir," Harry whimpered, pushing away the humiliation. 

 

  " _ Sir _ . Good boy, I like that. Call me that from now on." 

 

  "Yes, sir." 

 

  Louis started the punishment without warning. Harry heard the crack of the belt before he felt it against his ass. He cried out, gripping the bedsheets so tightly his knuckles had gone white. Louis struck hard with practiced ease, hitting the tenderest spots of Harry's ass before moving down to strike his thighs. 

  Harry howled, jumping at each hit. Louis marveled as his ass changed color, pink to deep red. He'd be bruised tomorrow, not too badly, but bad enough to hurt a good amount when he sat. The lesson would stick, Louis thought. 

 

  The last smack was on his sit spot, and Louis did not go easy on him. An incredible cracking noise filled the room and Harry's scream hurt his own ears. His body shook with his sobs and his hands itched to rub his aching backside, but he couldn't risk angered Louis again. Oh, he'd do anything to never go through that again, he thought. He could be  _ so, so good.  _

 

  "There we go, sweet puppy, we're all done." Louis lifted him under his arm, lying him on his side and bringing the blankets over him. Louis crawled in next to him and slid a hand around his waist, pulling him close. Harry cried against his chest, his fingers gripping the fabric of Louis' shirt. "Calm down, my love," he cooed, pushing Harry's hair out of his face. "You did so well, Harry. Good boy." 

 

  Harry whined lowly, soothed a little by the praise. Louis' fingers wiped away the tears tracking down his face. They sat in silence - besides Harry's sniffling - for a few minutes before Louis spoke. "Are you hungry? I bet you are. I'll bring you some food, okay? I'll be right back." 

 

  The bed creaked softly as Louis got up. Harry listened as his feet padded across the room. The two locks slid into place and Louis descended down the stairs. 

  
  Harry wept. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ??? ??


End file.
